


Every Kiss Begins With...

by oldasyouromens



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Cheating, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, Jewelry Store AU, M/M, Post-Break Up, Rimming, mentions of trevor and caleb, ok so this got away from me so im updating the tags LOL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldasyouromens/pseuds/oldasyouromens
Summary: Ian works at a jewelry store. His favorite client is coming in with his new fiancé.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote my biggest fear. enjoy.

Ian Gallagher didn’t know how he ended up working at a jewelry store. One day he was an EMT, the next he was being thrown out on his ass for lying about his history of mental illness. He worked a few shitty jobs here and there and eventually saved up enough for a shitty apartment in the shittiest neighborhood on the Northside. Anything to get out of the Back of the Yards.

Looking for a job closer to home, the only place hiring that he was marginally qualified for was the jewelry store. He was hired, despite knowing jack shit about jewelry, and soon made his way through the ranks to Assistant Store Manager. He wasn’t passionate about the job, or the product, or the company, but he was making steady income and he couldn’t complain about that.

Ian did pretty well for himself; he could admit that being a charming, handsome guy helped to fluff up his sales. He had multiple clients that would only work with him, and his commissions were typically highest in the store. He was raking it in more than he had as an EMT, so he was fairly content. In fact, one of his favorite (and wealthiest) customers had just called to say that he was stopping in.

Currently, Ian was “taking out the garbage,” which really meant sucking down a cigarette by the dumpsters. Dealing with people who casually drop three grand on a pair of earrings takes a toll on him. He can’t even imagine what their life looks like if that’s an average Tuesday afternoon purchase.

He checked his watch and sighed, stomping out his cigarette and kicking it into the gutter before pushing back inside.

Stepping into the store, Ian caught his client perusing in the gemstones.

“Mr. Alvarez!” Ian sang out, waving at him from across the store. “Give me one moment and I’ll be right with you.”

He hurried into the backroom to spray some cologne and wash his hands to make sure he didn’t smell like an ashtray. He took a swig of his pop, fixed his collar, and made his way out the door.

“Ian! How are you?” Mr. Alvarez greeted, reaching out his hand to shake.

Ian grasped his client’s hand, beaming, “I’m doing well, it’s nice to see you. So… I have to know, did the lucky fella say yes?!”

Mr. Alvarez had been in a few weeks earlier looking for a black diamond band to propose to his boyfriend with. All in all, spent a little over $5,000. He was a silver fox, plain and simple. In his early 40s, well dressed, and handsome as all hell; he always walked with the sort of purpose of a man who held the world in his hand. Ian wasn’t sure what he did for a living, but he knew it must’ve been good to be living as comfortably as he does.

Mr. Alvarez grinned widely, nodding. “The lucky fella I am, he did,” he laughed, and Ian reached out to shake his hand.

“Well congratulations, sir, I’m so happy for you! What brings you in today?” Ian asked, leaning against a case.

“Turns out the ring’s just a _little_ too big, so we needed to get it resized.”

Ian nodded, understanding. “Of course, do we know what size we need?” he asked, moving to collect a tablet and a presentation book.

“Well, no,” Mr. Alvarez said, suddenly looking confused. “My fiancé was just with me,” he hummed, looking around the store. “I sort of need to just drop him off, I have a few errands to run,” he frowned. “Give me a moment?”

Ian obliged and Mr. Alvarez stepped out of the store, taking a sweeping look around the mall. Ian just shrugged and leaned back against the case again. He took to swinging his keys around his finger, imagining what Mr. Alvarez’ fiancé would look like.

Probably a twink. Someone pretty young, Ian guesses. A guy with that much money, at that age, that handsome, could probably swing any guy he wanted. Ian conjured a picture of some wide eyed, blonde haired kid that got distracted by the GameStop on their way in.

What he _wasn’t_ expecting to see when he looked up was Mickey fucking Milkovich.

Clearly, being wealthy via injection didn’t change him. He was still wearing jeans that were dirty in the knees and his old Timbs; he was wearing a cut off tee that Ian was fairly certain he himself had thrown on after sex once.

The years they’d spent together all flashed through his mind at once. The gravitational pull Ian felt to him, the way his stomach flipped every time he saw him, the fact that no matter what they put each other through, Mickey was still his favorite person to be around.

Then Ian had dumped him on his front porch after his get away with Monica and he never saw him again. He just left. Never saw him in the neighborhood, not around the Kash and Grab. When Ian had finally reached out to Mandy, she told him that her brothers said he just up and moved out.

She said that she figured they’d left together.

Despite being the one to end things, Ian’s heart ached for weeks. Months. There were days that he couldn’t get out of bed, but it definitely wasn’t because of the depression.

But he survived. He moved on – well, not as far as Mickey obviously moved on. He’d gone out on a few Tinder dates, hooked up, but never really settled down with anyone. Nothing felt _right_.

But here Mickey was, shuffling his feet in front of Ian for the first time in five years.

“Ian,” Mr. Alvarez beamed, “meet my fiancé, Mickey!”

Ian swallowed every curse word he could think of and plastered a smile on his face, reaching a hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mickey.”

Mickey shifted his eyes between the two before nodding and taking Ian’s hand.

The first time he touched Mickey Milkovich in five years. Ian felt like he was going to throw up.

“Alright, well I must be going! I trust you’ll be able to help him out, he doesn’t know much about jewelry,” Mr. Alvarez chuckled, and his handsome face didn’t seem so endearing to Ian anymore. Seemed a lot more punchable.

“Of course, Mr. Alvarez,” Ian kept smiling, despite the fact that it physically hurt him.

He watched his client leave, but even after he was out the door, Mickey and Ian stayed frozen in place.

Eventually, seeing as he’s making _money_ off of this, Ian broke the spell. He picked up the tablet and presentation book again and turned to walk toward the men’s rings.

“If you’ll follow me, Mrs. Alvarez,” he quipped, not waiting up.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, I’m not gonna take his name,” Mickey rolled his eyes, following behind him.

Ian just hummed and sat down, pulling the ring sizers out. “Y’know. I should’ve known. He told me his fiancé had small hands.”

Mickey sat down across the case from him and tried to meet his eye. “You just gonna keep jabbin’ at me or are we gonna talk like adults?”

And _that_ surprised Ian. Mickey Milkovich wanting to have an adult conversation? Unheard of.

Ian just studied his face for a while, thinking. “Where’d you go?”

Mickey sighed, training his eyes down on the rings under the glass in front of him. “Took all my shit and got on the L. Got a motel room up in Boystown, went out and got a job as a bouncer.”

Ian nodded, eyes shifting away. “And everything just… worked out from there?” he asked, voice tight.

Mickey shrugged, looking back up. “I guess. I mean, it wasn’t easy breezy, but I figured it out. Met Leo at one of the clubs I was bouncin’ at couple years ago.”

Ian picked at his fingernails. “That’s good. I’m happy for you,” he said to his hands.

It was quiet for a moment. The air was still between them, both of them practically holding their breath.

“What’ve you been up to?” Mickey finally asked, rubbing his nose.

Ian let out a long breath. “I dunno. This?” he let out a humorless laugh. “Not much, man. Just sort of taking it day-by-day.”

“You seein’ anyone?”

Ian perked up _just_ a bit. They had always been toxic. Always. No matter what they did, no matter how bad they could be to each other, they always ended up together. They always wanted each other. It was like a drug addiction, and Ian was hopelessly attached. And right now, he felt due for a relapse.

So, if the thought of taking Mickey out by the dumpsters and fucking him in broad daylight fluttered through Ian’s mind, it wasn’t terribly out of left field.

“No,” Ian answered, with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. He took a moment to rake his eyes over Mickey’s frame, clearly more filled out than when they were younger.

“Woah,” Mickey said, sitting back in his chair. “Don’t look at me like that, man.”

Ian was completely thrown off guard, his eyes snapping back up to Mickey’s. “Wait, what?”

“Dude, I just wanna know if you’re happy. Y’know. With someone,” Mickey frowned, looking away.

“Oh,” Ian said, dumbly. He chewed on his bottom lip, feeling his face burn up. “No, I’m not.”

Mickey sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the case. “Look, I know we didn’t really get, like… closure, or whatever,” Mickey started.

Ian just blinked, wondering who explained what closure was to Mickey.

“But I don’t resent you or anything,” he continued. “I’m not mad. I was, for a _while_. But, y’know. I got over it. And I understand. You were really going through it. And maybe I was a little dramatic for leaving without saying anything, but… I couldn’t just be _there_ without you around.”

Ian all but gaped, completely thrown off. “Who are you?” he laughed quietly.

Mickey laughed with him, some of the tension between them melting away. “Apparently, you learn a lot about feelings when all the people you hang out with are the flamers up north,” Mickey grinned, sheepishly.

Ian laughed again, shaking his head. They quieted down again and Ian chewed on his bottom lip. “Thank you for that,” he said after a minute. “It’s a lot of what I think I needed to hear. And me, too. Y’know. Like all that, and I really felt like I fucked up, really as soon as you walked away. Just knew it was a mistake.”

Mickey was quiet for another moment. “Maybe it was,” he shrugged, rubbing his hands on his knees. “But it was what it was and now we’re here.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought. “I love you,” he said, looking up at Ian. “I always will, that’s never gonna change, you know that.”

Ian swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah,” he breathed, his heart aching. “Yeah, I do too. _Will_ too.”

Mickey took a deep breath in through his nose. “I wish… we could, like. Hang out. Or be friends or something, but…”

The ache in Ian’s heart throbbed, understanding exactly what Mickey was saying.

“I just think it’d be… hard. Bad for us, maybe,” Mickey finished, sadly.

“Yeah,” Ian rasped.

It was quiet for another minute, the moment settling between them.

“Well,” Ian huffed, picking up the ring sizers. “Might as well do what you came here to do.” He picked through the sizers and cocked his head. “A ten is the most common size, so I’m gonna say we take a look at the seven?”

Mickey stared at him for a minute before laughing. “You’re such a fuckin’ dick.”

Ian laughed freely, feeling a lot lighter than he did before. He handed over the sizers, letting Mickey try some on. “Can I ask, did you shit your pants when you saw me?”

Mickey’s mouth dropped open and he leaned forward. “Dude. You fuckin’ ran in, didn’t see me, and I ran the fuck out.”

Ian practically doubled over in laughter.

“I went to the GameStop next door and told Leo I wanted to check out a game. Holy shit, I didn’t know what the fuck to expect. My heart was in my _asshole_ , dude.”

Ian sat back up and wiped some tears from his eyes, a few more bursts of laughter bubbling up from him. “Honestly, I didn’t even know what I was gonna do. Throw a punch? Yell? Laugh? Hug you? I mean, I went through every single emotion in the span of, like, five seconds. I think I short-circuited.”

Mickey cackled, rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck, man. Universe got a real fucked up sense of humor, huh.”

Ian nodded, sitting back and letting out a breath. “So, what size you decide on?”

“A seven and a _half_ , thank you very much, asshole,” Mickey said pointedly, sliding the sizers back to a sniggering Ian.

He went through all the technicalities of taking in the ring for resizing and stood from the chair. “Come on, follow me. Gotta get your receipt.”

Mickey followed him to the register and Ian closed out the repair, handing over the receipt. “I added your name on the account. So, you could come pick it up if you wanted,” he shrugged, nonchalantly.

Mickey smiled gently, nodding. “Yeah, might.”

They stood there, just staring at each other for what was definitely longer than socially acceptable, until Mickey got a text.

“Leo’s on his way back down, so. Should be going.”

Ian nodded, unsure of what to do with himself.

Mickey made the decision for him by reaching out his hand.

Ian took it and let Mickey pull him into, what the rest of the world would see, a bro-hug.

But they both took the time to really hold each other in a way they hadn’t in years, and in a way that they’d likely never do again. Ian tucked his face into the side of Mickey’s neck, reveling in the same smell he remembered from when they were kids.

When they finally pulled back, Mickey had a myriad of emotions written out on his face, but Ian just patted his shoulder. “Ring’s gonna be ready in a couple weeks, so… you’re all set,” he said, voice strained.

Mickey nodded, letting out a long breath. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around,” Ian agreed, although he knew it probably wasn’t true. He decided to add, because he really couldn’t help himself, “and hey. I, uh… I still got the same number, so. You know, if you ever need anything or just… wanna talk. I’m around.”

“Yeah, Ian. Sure,” Mickey smiled, but Ian knew it wouldn’t happen.

Fate decided that would be the perfect time for Mr. Alvarez to waltz back into the store, his voice jolting both Ian and Mickey out of their little world. “So! Everything work out okay?” he asked, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

“Of course, Mr. Alvarez,” Ian perked up, putting his retail face back on. “We’ll be sending the ring out today and we should be getting it back within two weeks.”

“Amazing as always, Ian,” Mr. Alvarez beamed, resting a hand on Mickey’s shoulder for a moment. “Ready, Mick?”

And, oh God, Ian thought he was going to keel over and die.

“Yeah,” Mickey nodded, sending Ian one last smile. “Thanks, Ian. See ya.”

Ian watched the love of his life leave the store, fingers brushing and smiling with his future husband. But, given everything, he didn’t feel that bad. He was happy for Mickey. After everything Ian put him through, after everything _life_ had put him through, he came out on top. He deserved it.

He took a quick break in the back to cool down. If it were up to him, he’d just walk out and get on the L now. Unfortunately though, the only other person there was Jessica, the newbie, and _someone_ had to close.

Ian stepped back out just as Jessica was greeting a customer. 

He was, well… cute. Little bit shorter than Ian, floppy hair, tanned skin with just a hint of a burn on top of his nose.

“Hey, Jess, can you go restock the ring boxes, please?” Ian asked, casually.

She gave him a quizzical look but shrugged and did as she was told.

“So, how can I help you out today, Mr…” Ian led, and the kid just laughed.

“Oh, just Austin.”

Ian laughed with him. “Okay, ‘just Austin,’ what can I help you find today?”

Austin grinned up at him, letting out a very endearing giggle. “Well, I’m looking for a gift for my mom, but I honestly sort of don’t know what to get,” he said, sighing. “It’s very embarrassing as a gay man to not know a thing about jewelry.”

Ian tried to suppress a smirk. “Well, as a gay man who _does_ know a thing or two, let me show you the way.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the taste of your lips, I'm on a ride. You're toxic, I'm slippin' under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so... i kept writing and this story completely got away from me. not entirely sure where i'm going, but we're sure as hell gonna have some fun along the way
> 
> updating it to three chapters, but possibly going longer than that!

Ian Gallagher and Austin Powell have been dating for nearly six months.

That fact, in of itself, made Ian’s head reel. The last few years had not been easy on him, and a guy would’ve been lucky to keep Ian’s attention for the duration of their date, let alone half a _year_.

Dating had just felt so… wrong. The guys were all too big, too skinny, too tall, too nice. It was like a vital part of the equation was gone.

Then Austin showed up and shit just made sense. It was easy. They breezed straight through the “so what’s your family like?” and “what’s your favorite color?” to the “you’re such a fucking dork, I can’t believe your favorite movie is 2 Fast 2 Furious” and “stop laughing, I’m literally never showing you any baby pictures again.” 

Things were still new, but in a good way. He forgot what an honor it was to be able to learn everything there is to know about someone he liked.

They hadn’t breached into the “love” word territory yet, and Ian was fine with that. He thought it was probably a good idea to take it slow and not dive headfirst into another wildly codependent and complicated relationship. He didn’t think they were too far off, though, and he felt like they were in a healthy place for it.

Today, Ian had the day off and had just picked up lunch from Austin’s favorite Chinese place. He didn’t get to visit his boyfriend at the auto shop too often considering his own schedule, but he’d been around enough: Hanging out during Austin’s lunch break, bringing him his wallet when he’s left it at Ian’s place, dropping him off when his own car was (ironically) being worked on.

He’d met most of Austin’s coworkers, all of which seemed really nice and treated each other like family, which Ian could appreciate. He hated that awkward feeling of just being “the boyfriend” tagging along, but they acted like Ian was just another buddy; He’d even gone out for drinks with them a few times.

He stepped into the office and the _ring_ from the bell above the door prompted Romero, with his back to Ian, to spout the rehearsed: “Welcome to Elston Auto, we’ll be with you right-“

He cut himself off when he finally turned around and saw Ian. “Shit dude! You got me out here lookin’ stupid,” he laughed, waving him in. “You brought me some food?”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” Ian chuckled, pulling the bag away from Romero’s probing fingers. “Austin around?”

Typically, Ian would just text him and tell him he was there and Austin would come scampering out from the garage, but he hadn’t been answering Ian all day.

Romero grimaced and wiped his brow with the cloth in his hand. “He’s here, but our boss is on a fuckin’ rampage, bro. Been shittin’ down everyone’s mouth since he got in.”

Ian frowned incredulously. “I’m sorry, _shitting down everyone’s mouths?”_

“I don’t know!” Romero sighed, throwing his hands up. “We just can’t do nothin’ right today.”

As if on cue, a metallic crash sounded from the garage followed by some barking orders. Ian winced. “Jesus. Dude sounds like an asshole.”

“If you ask me, I think he’s just not getting laid,” Romero scoffed, which made Ian laugh. “Alright, I’ll go see if I can get Austin. But if I die because I had to go back in there, just know it’s your fault,” he said, jabbing at Ian’s chest.

Ian cackled and leaned back against the counter, pulling his phone out. He scrolled through his last few texts to Austin, now not so (very slightly) peeved that he wasn’t answering. He scrolled back to their texts from last night, when Ian had confirmed that he’d successfully made it home and Austin answered with a heart emoji and then a kiss emoji. It was gross, they were gross, but Ian still thought it was cute.

The door swung open to reveal a very disheveled Austin, and it weren’t for the look of exhaustion in his eyes, Ian would’ve thought his face, smudged with oil and dirt, was the cutest goddamn thing he’s seen in his life.

“Woah,” Ian breathed, reaching out a hand for Austin. “What’s he fuckin’ doin’ to you guys in there?”

Austin cracked a tired smirk, “Thanks babe, you look great, too,” he snarked, but took Ian’s hand and let him pull him in close. “He’s just… I have no idea. Usually he just minds his business as long as we’re doin’ our shit, but today he’s just up our asses.”

Ian frowned and rubbed his thumb against Austin’s back. “Well, fuck, that’s _my_ job,” he hummed, making Austin laugh and kick at his feet.

“You’re a dick,” Austin smiled, looking up at Ian. He was a few inches shorter, and to reach up for a kiss he just _barely_ had to reach up on his toes. He did so, and Ian kissed him back sweetly.

“Think you’ll get to take a minute to eat?” he asked, though most of his hope was lost. He could hear Austin’s boss yelling something about a carburetor through the garage door.

Austin sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. “Probably not. Just throw it in the fridge at home and I’ll come over after work, yeah?” he asked, reaching out for Ian’s hand.

Ian took it and nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, squeezing Austin’s fingers. “You go back in there and you give him hell right back though, yeah?” he teased.

“Okay, right. Ian, despite my asshole boss, I happen to _like_ my job,” Austin said, pointedly.

“Yeah, whatever,” Ian smiled, bringing him in one more time and pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “I catch him out in the streets, though, and it’s on sight.”

Austin pulled away laughing. “Shut the fuck up and get my crab rangoons home in one piece please?”

Ian chuckled and nodded, watching Austin steel himself to go back inside.

“Alright. I’ll see you tonight, okay? Thanks for, y’know, the thought,” Austin was saying, walking backwards toward the garage, “but I’ll see you at home! Love you, bye!” he called, letting himself back through the door.

Ian had frozen, blinking at the now empty space where Austin had just been. For a moment, his brain just went blank. He wasn’t mad or upset, he was just sort of… confused. But a happy confused.

He always thought they would say it to each other for the first time in the heat of the moment. Or when something dire was on the line.

Or maybe Ian would’ve worked it all out, planned the perfect date, and orchestrated their “I love yous” over a candlelit dinner.

But Ian could work with a failed attempt at a lunch date. He could get on board with that.

Ian walked back to his car with a smile splitting his face in half. He drove his happy ass home and practically skipped up the steps to his apartment.

At this point, it should really be _their_ apartment. Austin was over all the time, half of his shit was there, it was closer to the shop, and it was _way_ less expensive than his place in Boystown. Austin even had his own key, but Ian had always just figured it was too soon.

Maybe he’d revisit that thought.

He got inside and dropped the food into the refrigerator before deciding he was probably ripe for a shower. And maybe he took an extra few minutes in there to really spruce himself up, because maybe he was almost certain that he’d be getting laid tonight.

He had another few hours before Austin even left the shop, so he flopped down onto the couch and clicked on some old Netflix series he’d been bingewatching and just dozed, thoughts of _love_ and _boyfriend_ and _warmth_ curling around him.

He must have slept through the rest of the season because the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by some floppy blonde hair.

Ian sat up with a jolt, heart racing, but then relaxed when he heard Austin’s laughter from the floor. “Jesus, dude, scared the shit out of me,” Ian mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “What time is it?

“’Bout eight,” Austin frowned, leaning his cheek on the couch.

“Eight?! The fuck he have you so late for?” Ian scowled, finally blinking the sleep out of his eyes and looking down at his boyfriend.

Austin just shrugged, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “I dunno. Everything had to be _just right_ , he looked at every little thing we did, like, six times over.”

“Man, fuck that guy,” Ian grouched, reaching for Austin. “C’mere.”

“Nah, come on, I smell like shit,” Austin said, leaning away from Ian’s touch. “Let me shower first, yeah?”

Ian groaned like waiting another ten minutes to hold Austin was going to kill him. “Fine,” he whined, laying his head back down onto the couch.

He heard Austin laugh’s fade as he made his way through the apartment until the water squeaked on. Ian rubbed at his eyes again until he felt more alert, and then remembered lunch – well, now dinner.

He pulled the food out of the fridge and started to divide it up between a few plates. He realized as soon as he smelled the food that he didn’t eat lunch either, and now he was _starving_. He groaned into a forkful of shrimp fried rice, cursing whatever Austin’s boss’ name was for not allowing him to experience it fresh.

Ian had to stop himself at some point to make sure there were still plenty left for both of them, and he had successfully doled out the portions between their plates to make it look like he hadn’t taken a bite.

Just in time, too, because a second later, Austin was padding into the kitchen in a pair of sweats and one of Ian’s old threadbare shirts that he’d claimed as his own. “You start without me?”

“No!” Ian answered around an incriminating mouthful of rice.

Austin took his seat laughing, pulling the box of crab rangoons to him. “You’re the best, you know that?” he hummed before moaning around his first bite.

Ian smirked and kicked him under the table. “Whore,” he teased, snickering at the middle finger he was presented with.

Ian wanted to bring it up. It was such a climactic moment in their relationship, but it felt like just another day between the two of them. So natural.

“Hey, you know you said you loved me today, right?” he asked, bluntly.

Austin nearly choked on his food, pounding on his chest a few times before looking red-faced up at Ian. “What? The hell are you talking about?”

Ian grinned, rubbing at his mouth. “You don’t remember?” he teased, sitting back in his chair. “Something like, ‘see you at hooome! Loooove you! Byeee!’” he sang out in a dramatically unrealistic falsetto and received a rightful slap on the arm for it.

“Asshole, I didn’t say that,” he rolled his eyes, sitting back in the chair before stilling. “Wait, did I say that?”

Ian smiled and shook his head fondly. “Yeah, dork, you fuckin’ did.” He started to chew on his bottom lip. “I mean… you meant it, right?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Austin’s eyes flickered back up to Ian’s and softened, reaching a hand out for him. “Yeah,” he breathed, cheeks going pink, “I did. _Do_ ,” he corrects, fighting the smile that’s twitching at his lips.

Ian tried to hide his nervous smile behind his hand before dropping it to hold Austin’s. “Well, good. Cuz, you know. Me too.”

“Good,” Austin answered shyly, resting his chin in his hand.

Ian was floored at the feeling of being nervous in front of a guy who he hadn’t felt nervous in front of in months. He didn’t realize that this sort of vulnerability and openness could feel so good.

They ate in that simmering silence for a while, but Ian was suddenly much less hungry than he was before. “You almost done?”

Austin snapped out of his own thoughts and looked up and Ian, shrugging a shoulder. “Pretty much.”

“Good,” Ian hummed, standing up. “Cuz I wanna go make out.”

Austin laughed and wasted no time in following Ian to the living room to crawl on top of his boyfriend on the couch. Ian wrapped his long arms around Austin’s waist, just letting their noses brush against each other for a moment. “You know what tomorrow is?”

Austin nodded minutely, focused on the feeling of Ian’s breath fanning over his lips. “Six months.”

Ian smiled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Wanna do somethin’?”

Austin leaned up on his elbow, cocking his head to the side. “Like what?”

Ian shrugged, running his hand down Austin’s solid frame. “Take you out to dinner?”

Austin smiled softly, bringing his fingers up to Ian’s face. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Ian hummed, turning to playfully bite at Austin’s fingers. “Now get the fuck down here.”

The rest of the night passed with giggles and moans and a few more “I love yous” thrown in the middle. Ian was happy. He was really, really happy, and he was starting to think that this could be the real deal.

Both of them had to work the next day, so they decided they’d just go out to the bar and grill down the street from Austin’s apartment. A few of their buddies hung around there, and the place served good burgers. They wanted to keep it casual; neither of them were too big on fancy dinners or wearing a tie when they didn’t need to.

By the time both of them finished work and got cleaned up, it was about eight o’clock. By the time they’d stepped up to the restaurant, it was in full swing with drunk regulars and girls singing on the karaoke machine. As he was walking in and noticed one of his friends from his clubbing days, Ian didn’t realize he was still walking and collided with a hard body in front of him.

“Ah, shit, sorry man-“

“Ay, watch where you’re fucking-“

When the man turned around, both of them just gaped at each other like fish out of water.

“Mickey?” Austin asked from behind him.

Ian’s head whipped around, his expression bewildered. “What? How the hell do you know Mickey?”

Austin frowned. “What do you mean? He’s my boss? How the hell do _you_ know Mickey?”

Ian’s mouth was suddenly dry, and he turned back to find Mickey gone, having ran off somewhere deeper into the bar. Ian didn’t necessarily blame him.

“Can we get a drink first?” Ian asked, voice tight.

They settled down into a seat and ordered a few beers, and Ian couldn’t help himself but scan the bar, eyes flickering back and forth.

“Hello, earth to Ian?” Austin asked, snapping his fingers in front of his boyfriend’s face.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ian apologized, looking back at Austin and wiping his hand down his face. “Um, remember that – oh, thank you,” he stopped himself, graciously taking the beer that the server handed him and chugged about half.

“Dude, slow down,” Austin said, worried. “The fuck’s going on?”

Ian sighed and steeled himself. “You know my ex that I told you about, that, like, sort of ruined me? The one I saw the day we met?”

Austin stared at him, dumbfounded. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Ian just nodded his head, solemnly. “Yeah, that’s… That’s Mickey.”

“Wait,” Austin frowned, shaking his head like he was erasing an Etch-A-Sketch. “Mickey’s _gay_?!”

“Wait, what?” Ian asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “He’s married. To a dude.”

“We knew he was _married_ but we never met them! We all just figured it was a girl!”

“Holy shit,” Ian breathed, finally spotting Mickey in the distance behind Austin. He could’ve sworn he caught him right as he was looking away. “That’s… this is… This is fucking insane,” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, tonight’s just supposed to be about us, this is just… giving me whiplash.”

“I know,” Austin breathed, reaching a hand out to hold Ian’s. Ian’s fingers twitched underneath the weight. “Do you want to leave?”

“No! No, it’s fine, really. Let’s get some food, yeah?” Ian offered, turning his hand over to squeeze Austin’s.

Another half hour went by without much fanfare. Ian and Austin mostly spent the time reminiscing: the first time they’d come to this bar, the first time Austin took him out in his Mustang, their first kiss, their top ten most embarrassing moments.

It wasn’t until Mickey slammed his fists on the table across the room and yelled over all the noise, “Fuck this, fuck you, I’m done!” that the entire restaurant stilled. He stood and marched outside, looking absolutely livid.

Ian’s body twitched to run after him, but his love for his boyfriend kept him planted firmly in his seat.

Ian’s desire to follow Mickey didn’t go unnoticed, though. “Go,” Austin said, quietly. “I understand,” he said, gently.

“Are you sure?” Ian asked, feeling like he was pleading but not sure for what.

“Seriously, you wanna make sure he’s okay. I get that, I’ll be here, okay?”

“Thank you,” Ian breathed, getting up and hurrying out the door, not wanting to lose Mickey around a corner.

He was lucky as he caught Mickey stalking away into an alley, flicking his lighter against a cigarette.

“Mick!” Ian called, running after him.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, a few feet in front of him.

“Hey,” Ian said, quietly, reaching him. “Are you okay?”

“Fuckin’ peachy, Ian. Go back to your boyfriend,” Mickey scoffed.

“Come on, dude,” Ian tried, reaching out to stop Mickey with a hand on his shoulder.

Mickey suddenly spun around, facing Ian. “No, man. No, I’m not okay. But I’ll be fuckin’ fine, you don’t have to fuckin’ chase me around Boystown, dramatic ass bitch.”

“Fuck you, Mickey,” Ian sighed, without much bite. But Mickey had stopped walking, turning to lean against the brick wall of some apartment building.

“Apparently,” he sing-songed, “My husband’s been cheating on me. For like a month. Some twink he met at work,” he said gruffly, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Shit, Mick. I’m so sorry,” Ian said, leaning against the wall next to him.

Mickey shrugged, offering Ian the cigarette, “Whatever. Sex was boring anyway,” he brushed off, trying to hide the tightness of his voice.

Ian took a drag, relishing in it since Austin convinced him to quit a few months ago. “He’s an asshole,” he grumbled, handing it back. “Want me to beat him up for you?”

Mickey let out a humorless breath of a laugh, looking up at the sky. “Yeah, that’d be ideal, thanks.”

They stood in silence for a moment, but it was comfortable. In the moment, in the dark sharing a cigarette, felt almost like nothing had changed.

“Things had been going south for a while, though. Not really surprised,” Mickey shrugged, closing his eyes.

It was then that Ian noticed that Mickey was no longer wearing his wedding band.

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispered, not looking at him.

“Don’t be, I’ll be better off without him,” Mickey nodded, throwing the butt on the ground and stomping it out.

Another heavy silence blanketed the two.

“Can I be honest?” Mickey said to his shoes.

“Yeah,” Ian said, stomach tightening for whatever he had to say.

Mickey took a moment for formulate his words, mouth opening a few times before snapping shut. Finally, “I think it started when I saw you. The doubt.”

Ian didn’t say anything, he felt like Mickey had more.

“Just… made me think about the way I felt with him, y’know. He was good to me, then. We had fun, I actually fuckin’ liked him,” he continued, still not looking at Ian, who just nodded and waited patiently.

“But it still wasn’t… _that_ feeling. That fuckin’, I don’t know.”

“I know,” Ian nodded, completely understanding what Mickey was getting at. “I get it, Mick. I really do.”

Another silence. It was like they were both fishing for words that they shouldn’t be saying out loud.

“Austin, huh?” Mickey asked suddenly, tapping another cigarette out.

“Yeah,” Ian answered, a part of him not even wanting to talk about it. “We met, actually,” he huffed a laugh, “same day I saw you. Kinda felt like the right time to actually move on, y’know?”

Mickey nodded, passing the cigarette to Ian. “Have you?” he asked after a while.

“Have I what?” Ian asked, despite fully knowing what Mickey was trying to convey.

“Fuckin’… moved on.”

Ian knew the answer. He thought long and hard whether or not to actually say it.

“I don’t think so,” he whispered, staring into the space in front of him.

He didn’t look at Mickey. He didn’t, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He couldn’t do that to Austin. Shit, he just saw first-hand what that kind of shit will do to another person. So he didn’t look at Mickey.

Until he did.

He was practically on autopilot. Ian couldn’t stop himself from pulling Mickey into him, kissing him with a passion that he hadn’t felt in years.

Mickey kissed him back just as hard, dropping his cigarette so his fingers could glide up into Ian’s hair, pulling him closer.

Ian groaned into Mickey’s mouth, hands winding around his waist and pressing his body fully against his.

They kissed hungrily until they were forced to stop to breathe. They panted against each other’s mouths, foreheads pressing together.

“Mick, we-“ Ian sighed, his hands not moving from their grip on Mickey’s waist.

“I know,” Mickey practically whined.

They just stood there, staring at each other and breathing for another minute until Ian pushed them deeper into the alley, pressing another hot kiss into Mickey’s open mouth.

Mickey’s back hit a dumpster and Ian wasted no time pulling at his belt. Mickey did the same, fishing Ian out of his jeans and wrapping a hand around him.

And there they were, Mickey and Ian, fisting at each other’s cocks in a dirty alley way against a dumpster. It was like they time traveled.

It didn’t take long for them to reach their climaxes, both of them fucking their hips up into each other’s palms. Ian came with a groan against Mickey’s lips and Mickey wasn’t far behind.

They stood there panting into each other’s mouths, Ian bringing a hand up to cradle Mickey’s head.

“Shit,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

“Yeah.”

They cleaned up with some mildly clean paper towels from the dumpsters – which Ian deeply protested to – and sat back against the wall.

After a minute, Ian sighed. “I should probably go,” he said, regretfully.

“I know,” Mickey nodded, chewing on his bottom lip.

“You gonna be okay?” Ian asked, looking over at Mickey.

He just shrugged, leaning his head back against the brick. “Yeah, I guess.”

Ian nodded, starting to feel guilty about the fact that he _didn’t_ feel guilty. He stood up, brushing some dirt off of his pants as he did. “Bye, Mick,” he whispered, starting to walk out of the alley.

Mickey’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Am I gonna see you again?”

Ian stood for a good minute, thinking hard about how he wanted to take this next step, the kind of guy he wanted to be. He thought about Austin, thought about their time together. Thought about how he gave his blessing for Ian to go chasing after his ex in concern. He thought about how selfish he’d have to be.

Then again, Ian’s always been sort of a selfish kind of guy.

“Yeah,” he answered, not turning around.

He made his way back to the bar, surprised yet not too surprised to see that Austin wasn’t there. He checked his phone and saw a few texts from him.

_(8:57pm) Austin: Everything ok?_

_(9:26pm) Austin: You almost done?_

_(9:40pm) Austin: Hey, I’m gonna go back to my place. Hope he’s ok. Come over when ur done if u want_

Ian felt bad. He didn’t feel as bad as he should’ve, and that just sort of made him feel worse.

He turned around and saw Mr. Alvarez, who was now sitting at the bar and fiddling with Mickey’s wedding band between his fingers.

He left before he’d have to deal with that shitstorm.

Despite having a key to Austin’s place, he still rang the buzzer. It felt weird to just let himself in after all of that.

“Yeah?” came the tinny voice from the speaker. Ian pressed the talk button.

“It’s me.”

He didn’t get an answer, but the buzzer sounded and the door unlatched after a second.

Ian took the stairs two at a time and found Austin’s front door ajar. He let himself in and saw Austin laid out on the couch, watching some old sitcom on the television.

“Hey,” Ian said quietly, and Austin didn’t look at him.

“Everything okay?” he asked, not sounding all that concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Shit, babe, I’m so sorry,” he said, sitting on the couch at Austin’s feet, resting a hand on his ankle.

Austin just shrugged, eyes flitting down to his fidgeting fingers. “It’s cool. I get it.”

“No, no,” Ian shook his head, shifting closer towards Austin. “It’s not cool. Seriously, I just didn’t realize how long I was out there,” he said, bringing his hand up to rub at Austin’s hip.

Austin just sighed and finally looked up at Ian, sucking on his bottom lip. “Did anything happen?”

Ian blinked a few times, taken aback. “What?” he asked, bewildered. “Of course nothing happened, I’d never do that to you,” he lied through his teeth, brows furrowing together.

Austin bought it, taking a moment before extending an arm out, inviting Ian to lay down next to him.

Ian did so, wrapping an arm around Austin’s middle and tucking his face into his neck. “I’m really sorry, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing against his pulse point. “Can I make it up to you?”

Austin rolled his eyes fondly, some of the cold in his voice melting away. “How you gonna do that, hotshot?”

Ian looked up at him and smirked, flipping Austin onto his back and kissing a line down his chest.

It turned into a night that was all about pleasing Austin. Ian played it off as him just trying to make it up to his boyfriend, and that he didn’t need anything. But truly, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get it up again.

It was around three am, Austin snoring beside him quietly and Ian staring up at the ceiling, that he got a text.

_(3:12am) Mick: Still got the same #?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that escalated quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing going on. Really. Ian can chat with an old friend and it doesn't have to mean anything.
> 
> (Except it does.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is essentially a porn interlude

Something Ian didn’t think he’d ever see again was Mickey’s name lighting up his phone.

Ian never had it in him to delete their text thread. He would sometimes stay up and selfishly scroll all the way back just to read old (sarcastic, snarky, swear-riddled) messages, remembering how happy he was in those moments.

For the last few years, those last texts Ian had sent always haunted him.

_April 14 th, 2016 (4:36pm) Ian: Hey_

_April 14 th, 2016 (4:41pm) Ian: Haven’t seen u around lately_

_April 16 th (2016) (1:37am) Ian: U still around? _

Ian had always hoped that Mickey just chucked his phone somewhere or maybe changed his number.

Well.

Instead of feeling sorry for his past self, Ian was looking at a new text from five minutes ago.

_(11:50pm) Mick: Saw leo today_

Ian chest tightened, sitting up in bed and gnawing on his bottom lip.

He turned to look at the empty space next to him. Despite Austin saying that he “wasn’t mad” and that he was “over it,” he was, without a doubt, being distant. They hadn’t seen each other in _four days_. Which means he hadn’t gotten _laid_ in four days. They hadn’t gone that long without seeing each other in their entire relationship.

Ian pretended he didn’t notice, though. He could give Austin his time. He accepted Austin’s bare bones texts and being brushed off for hanging out. He could play aloof.

Because the less he was physically around Austin, the less his anxiety about texting Mickey would be.

And it’s not that Ian didn’t still like Austin. Shit, he still thinks he _loves_ him. He’s a great guy and he doesn’t deserve anything that Ian’s doing to him, and Ian definitely doesn’t want to lose him.

It was just this… _thing_ with Mickey. An obsession maybe. It was such a deeply rooted, instinctual attraction and Ian didn’t think that it had an off switch.

And they hadn’t done anything wrong after the one very wrong thing they did. They were just chatting, catching up after years of not hearing from each other.

But if Ian didn’t want Austin to see the texts, it was just out of consideration for his feelings.

Mickey’s last text made Ian’s heart seize up. Not out of jealousy, no, because Ian had no right to be jealous. He _couldn’t_ be jealous, it’s not like there was anything going on between him and Mickey. Mickey and Leo had history, it totally made sense that he would see him.

Ian just pretended the red he saw was just his allergies flaring up.

_(11:59pm) Ian: Yea? What happened?_

_(12:04am) Mick: he said sorry it was a mistake. Told him to go fuck himself lol_

Ian chewed on his bottom lip. On one hand, he was happy that Mickey didn’t have any interest in Mr. Alvarez’ apology; On the other, Ian had a feeling this meant that he wouldn’t be giving up Mickey so easily.

But Mickey was a big boy and could make whatever decision he felt like making. If he decided at some point that he wanted his ex-husband back in his life, Ian could deal with that. He could. Probably.

_(12:14am) Ian: Good. Guys a selfish pos_

_(12:18am) Mick: yea good riddance_

_(12:20am) Mick: U workin tmrw?_

Ian’s breath caught in his throat. He hasn’t seen Mickey since That Night and ever since, it’s been like he was itching for a fix. 

_(12:27am) Ian: Yea, why?_

_(12:30am) Mick: Just wonderin_

_(12:33am) Ian: Gotcha_

He didn’t know what else to say. It seemed like the end of the conversation, so Ian just rolled over and closed his eyes. He tried to think of Austin, cuddling him, kissing him, just _being_ with him, but it felt almost… alien. Like he didn’t even really know who Austin was.

His phone pinged one more time.

_(12:42am) Mick: im knocking out. Talk to u later_

Ian swallowed hard and licked at his bottom lip, his thoughts swirling right back to Mickey.

_(12:45am) Ian: Night_

* * *

The next morning, Ian was back to slinging jewelry like his life was normal and not potentially crashing and burning around him.

He had a few of his regular clients coming in today, so he was looking forward to a few hours where he could shut off his mind, turn on Retail Robot Ian and sell.

Currently, Ian was working with his last customer before lunch: a sweet old Polish lady who barely spoke English.

He was just finished ringing up her sale when Jessica caught his attention.

“Hey Ian?”

“What’s up?” Ian asked without looking up, expecting a question on where something was or help with a return.

She walked up closer to him, so as to not have to yell across the store.

“There’s another client here for you.”

Ian frowned, handing over Mrs. Nowak her receipt. He didn’t have any more appointments for at least two hours. He looked up and had to blink stupidly for a few moments, wondering if his eyes were playing cruel fucking tricks on him.

But no, there was Mickey, uncomfortably shifting between his feet with a coffee in his hand.

Ian turned to thank his guest, heart beating rapidly under his dress shirt. She walked away and Ian took another few moments to steady his breathing before turning back around.

“Uh, hey, Mick,” Ian breathed, thankful that Jessica had taken this time to use the restroom.

“Sup,” Mickey said, his free hand itching against his thigh.

“What are you doing here?” Ian asked, trying not to look confused as hell.

Mickey rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as if he was steeling himself.

“Just… brought you one of those gay ass lattes you like. Or… I dunno. Used to like. I was in the neighborhood,” he explained to the ceiling and Ian’s head wouldn’t stop spinning.

It was quiet for another second while Ian tried to process the situation. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

“Shut the fuck up and take it, asshole,” Mickey finally looked at him, and Ian obliged, setting the coffee down on the desk beside him.

“Just, y’know,” Mickey hummed, taking a moment to rake his eyes over Ian’s body, “wanted to drop by.” Mickey’s shrugged, eyes meeting Ian’s again, eyebrows shooting up.

And holy fuck, yes. In an instant, Ian’s body was engulfed in flames. His boyfriend was the furthest thing from his mind right now. Who’s Austin? Ian didn’t think he even _knew_ an Austin.

“Um. Yeah. Just,” Ian fumbled, looking around wildly for Jessica. “Gimme a second.”

He all but sprinted to the backroom, whipping the door open to reveal his employee checking her phone.

“Hey, Jess, so, I’m gonna take my break. I’ll be out for a little bit, be back in thirty. You good?” he asked, hopefully.

“Yeah, I think I got it!” she answered with a smile, and Ian was never more grateful for her being such a quick learner.

Ian thanked her graciously and walked back outside, seeing Mickey still standing there, shuffling his feet.

Ian didn’t stop walking, just nodded his head for Mickey to follow him. He led him into the inner hallways of the mall which tunneled out to the dumpsters.

Seeing as the space was empty, Ian took no time to turn around and shove Mickey up against the wall, not even taking the time to breathe before pressing his lips against his.

Mickey groaned into Ian’s mouth, hands sliding up to cup Ian’s jaw to pull him closer.

Ian’s own hands slid down to Mickey’s ass, tugging him in so they could grind up against each other.

Down the hall, Ian heard the voices of a few maintenance guys and reluctantly pulled away, panting and sweating.

“C’mon,” he mumbled, leading Mickey in further toward the back doors.

They stepped out into the midday sun, Ian giddily pushing Mickey toward the secluded, walled off area behind the dumpsters.

Mickey pulled Ian in again, hot breath ghosting over his lips. “Smells like shit, Gallagher,” he noted, hands caressing his jaw.

“Don’t give a fuck,” Ian hummed, cracking a smile.

“Yeah,” Mickey grinned, shaking his head. “Me neither.”

That spurred them on into another passionate kiss and Ian’s hands found the hem of Mickey’s shirt, slipping under and feeling up his body.

“Fucking missed this,” he mumbled, scratching his nails down Ian’s back.

“How long we got?” Mickey asked against Ian’s lips.

“Half hour.”

“I can do a lotta damage in a half hour,” Mickey smirked, dropping down onto his knees.

“Shit,” Ian breathed, bracing his hand against the brick wall as Mickey undid his belt and pants, pulling Ian out and taking him between his lips in record time.

Mickey just suckled on his head for a moment, one hand grabbing onto Ian’s hip and the other wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Yeah, Mick,” Ian groaned when Mickey slid down, hollowing his cheeks around him. He slipped one hand into the dark, messy hair and tugged, jerking his hips forward.

Mickey moaned around him, letting Ian use him as he liked. He hadn’t had much practice in deepthroating lately, especially not with someone as gifted as Ian, so he gagged around him, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Holy fuck,” Ian breathed, eyes rolling backwards at the feeling of Mickey’s throat constricting around him, “yeah, fucking choke on it.”

He let Mickey relax after another second, feeling his lips slide back halfway up his cock.

Mickey brought his hand back into the mix, twisting up Ian’s shift to make up for what he couldn’t comfortably fit in his mouth. When he felt Ian’s hips start to fall out of rhythm, he started jerking him off in earnest, lips wrapped around his head.

“Want me to come in your mouth? Yeah?” Ian asked, fingers tightening in Mickey’s hair so he could feel the minute jerks of him nodding his head. “Shit,” he gasped, pounding a fist against the wall. “Gonna come, don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop, baby.”

Mickey moaned around his cock again and Ian was a goner, hot spurts of come jerking down Mickey’s throat.

Ian panted, closing his eyes and feeling a few aftershocks roll through him, twitching when Mickey lapped at him again.

“Okay, okay,” Ian laughed, having to pull Mickey off his oversensitive cock so he could tuck it back into his pants.

“Fuck,” Mickey breathed, still down on his knees, looking up at Ian.

And that picture right there could ruin any man. Ian took a moment to cradle Mickey face gently, brushing a thumb against his cheekbone. “C’mere.”

Mickey stood up and allowed Ian to press him back against the wall, crowding him in.

Ian pulled him in for another kiss, hands dipping down to squeeze at Mickey’s ass, spreading him apart through his jeans by the top of his thighs the best that he could. “Fuck, turn around.”

Mickey grinned, doing as he was told with a jovial, “Don’t mind if I do.” He undid his own pants and boxers, slipping them down beneath his ass.

Ian yanked them down a bit lower, until they were tight around the thickest part of Mickey’s god damn sexy ass motherfucking thighs. Ian kissed the inside of the right one, biting into the meaty flesh. He kept inching up until he reached Mickey’s ass, grabbing both cheeks and shaking them back and forth.

“ _God_ ,” Ian breathed, pressing on either side of Mickey’s hole to expose him before burying his face in it.

He lapped and sucked and fucked his tongue against Mickey’s hole, spurred on by the whines and moans he heard above him. One of Mickey’s hands came back to push Ian harder against him, and Ian would be a fool to disobey.

He kept at it until Mickey was wet, spit dripping and drying down the inside of his thighs. He stood back up and draped his body over Mickey’s, bringing his fingers around to push between his lips.

“Suck,” he whispered, and Mickey did. He practically slobbered on them, letting Ian fuck them in and out of his mouth.

Ian relished in it for another moment before pulling them out and circling Mickey’s hole. He bit down on Mickey’s clothed shoulder and pushed his middle finger all the way in to the knuckle.

“Fuck,” Mickey whimpered, arms coming up against the brick wall so he could rest his face against them.

“So fucking tight,” Ian murmured, pumping his finger in Mickey’s ass. He kissed up Mickey’s neck and sucked a faint bruise in the juncture under his jaw, feeling Mickey’s heart beating underneath.

He added another finger and started twisting them, closing his eyes at how hot and wet Mickey was. He kept probing until he felt Mickey’s body tense, his head rolling back onto Ian’s shoulder.

“Ian, Ian, fuck,” he whimpered, hips shifting back toward the fingers.

Ian moaned, pressing the side of his face against Mickey’s. “Yeah? Right there, Mick?” he goaded.

Mickey nodded, already way past gone. He was meeting every thrust, gasping for air. Ian could tell he was close by the way his hole was tightening around his fingers.

He reached around and gripped Mickey’s cock, giving him one, two, three jerks before he spilled all over the wall in front of him with a breathy moan.

They both stood there for another minute, just catching their breaths before Mickey finally tugged up his pants and turned around, chin tilted up so he could look at Ian.

Ian reached down and pulled Mickey in by his belt loops, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Mickey’s hand was on his cheek, and when they pulled back, he smirked.

“Catch ya later, Firecrotch,” he murmured, letting go and turning to walk away, past the dumpsters and toward the parking lot.

Ian just blinked, chest still heaving. Just like that, Mickey had disappeared. If it weren’t for the come stain on the wall and Ian’s cockhead sticking to his briefs, he might’ve thought he totally imagined it.

He checked his watch and was jolted out of his reverie. “Shit,” he mumbled under his breath, hurrying back toward the store.

Lucky as all fuck, the store was empty and Jessica was just kicked up on a chair with her phone.

She jumped when she saw Ian, pocketing her phone and standing up. He just waved her off, he couldn’t possibly give less of a shit right now.

He sat in the backroom for a minute and just chugged water, trying to cool down.

Ian stepped back outside and smiled when he saw the, now cold, cup of coffee on the counter.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

_(12:46pm) Mick: next time no dumpsters_

Ian laughed out loud and shook his head, wiping his brow.

_(12:46pm) Austin: Hey can we talk tonight?_

_(12:46pm) Ian: Dont worry itll be classy dumpsters next time lol_

_(12:47pm) Austin: ??_

And – wait – what?

Oh shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> austin didn't do nothin to nobody
> 
> also updated to 4 chapters :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian does some damage control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has some ian/austin smut, just a heads up!

Ian was on a race to Austin’s apartment.

What was he racing against? He didn’t really know. Time, consequences, Austin’s potential thought process.

He threw his car into park and didn’t even bother with the parking meter.

After his text misfire, he ignored Austin’s question marks in favor of answering his first question.

_(12:50pm) Ian: Yeah, I’ll come over after work. Be over around 6_

Austin hadn’t answered and Ian wasn’t sure what that meant for him. What was Austin thinking? Did he know? What could that text possibly mean in any other circumstance?

Ian spent the whole car ride over trying to think of an explanation, and he was still drawing blanks. Hey, some of Ian’s best lies had been on the fly.

He rang the apartment and was buzzed in without a word from Austin. Now Ian’s heart was really starting to race.

He wasn’t prepared to see Austin upset. They’d barely even _fought_ in the six months they’d been together. He didn’t want to hurt him, and he was going to say whatever he needed tonight to avoid that.

He climbed the steps and let himself through the unlocked door. Austin wasn’t on the couch, nor was he in the living room.

“In here,” Ian heard from Austin’s bedroom and he almost had a surge of hope.

That was, until he walked inside and saw Austin sitting on his bed against the wall, a neatly folded stack of shirts next to him. Ian’s shirts.

“Hey…” Ian frowned, gut wrenching.

Austin just stared him down, unmoving. Like he was daring Ian to say something, anything. Maybe waiting for a slip-up, maybe an explanation. Ian had no idea.

“What’s… what’re you doing?” Ian asked, weakly.

Austin sighed, leaning forward with his elbows against his knees.

“Did you fuck Mickey?”

Austin’s face stayed entirely neutral, which led Ian to believe that this had been on his mind every day since.

“What?” Ian spluttered, looking absolutely scandalized.

Austin’s expression didn’t budge other than an eyebrow quirking up.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Austin, hey,” Ian said gently, leaning one of his knees against the bed. “I would never do that to you,” he breathed.

Austin thought for a moment, sucking on his bottom lip before suddenly leaning forward, eyes leveling with Ian’s.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me ‘no.’ Say ‘no, I didn’t sleep with Mickey.’”

Ian, ever grateful for technicalities, crawled onto the bed and cupped his hand against Austin’s cheek. “No, baby. I didn’t sleep with Mickey,” he murmured, voice unwavering.

Austin clenched his jaw, searching Ian’s eyes.

“What was that dumpster text?”

Ian’s stomach did another flip. He dropped his hand from Austin’s face.

“Sorry, it was meant for someone else,” he brushed off, a quiet laugh in his voice.

Austin squinted at Ian, crossing his arms over his chest. “Clearly,” he said, unamused. “Who?”

Ian blinked a few times, hoping to god whatever random person in his life he chose would make sense.

“My coworker. Well, employee. I think you met her. Jess?” he offered, hopefully.

Austin frowned, shaking his head. “Okay, but what did it _mean_.”

Ian floundered for exactly two seconds before his brain finally kicked into gear. “Had her take out the trash – apparently it was all dirty and gross when she went out there and the mall’s supposed to be getting some new, updated ones,” he explained, shrugging.

Austin nodded, sitting back against the wall. He heaved out a breath and looked down at Ian’s shirts next to him.

“Can I see it?”

Ian cocked his head to the side, confused. “See what?”

“The text. With Jess.”

Ian sat back, genuinely affronted. “Seriously?”

Austin shrugged. “If you have nothing to hide, you should have no problem showing me.”

Ian’s eyebrows shot up, now crossing his own arms over his chest. “So, what? There’s just no trust?”

Now it was Austin’s turn to be confused. “I just want you to prove to me that it was a text with Jess. It’s not that complicated, Ian.”

“No, no,” Ian shook his head, getting off the bed and standing up again. “Why do I have to prove I’m faithful now? When have I ever done anything to lose your trust?” he asked, bewildered.

“When you ran off with your ex for an hour!”

“After he _just_ found out his husband was cheating on him?!” Ian asked, his voice raising ever so slightly.

Austin’s jaw clamped shut, eyes shifting down to his hands. “You didn’t tell me that that’s what happened.”

Ian shrugged, sitting down on the bed facing away from Austin. “You never asked.”

He felt the bed shift behind him and Austin’s forehead pressed to his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m being so crazy,” he breathed, and Ian felt a sickening flare of guilt rise in his throat, strangling him.

“I just, you know. I know there’s a lot of shit that went down between you two and you guys were together for a long time. Went through a lot,” he explained to Ian’s back. “Just kinda hard to not be self-conscious about it.”

Ian sighed, tamping down the bile that threatened to rise, turning to face him. “Hey, come on,” he murmured, pulling him into his chest.

Austin curled into Ian’s arms, pressing his cheek against his heart.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, both of them coming down from a paranoid, anxiety-riddled evening.

Eventually, Austin pulled away and looked up into Ian’s eyes, a hand coming up to cradle his face. “Can we just… pretend like that last few days didn’t happen?”

And, hoo boy, Ian couldn’t be happier for that.

He nodded eagerly, wrapping a large hand around the back of Austin’s neck. “Yeah. Yeah, we can,” he breathed, nudging his nose against his boyfriend’s.

Austin smiled and leaned in for a kiss, maneuvering so that he could press Ian down onto the bed.

Ian smirked and rested his hands on Austin’s hips, laying back and landing his head on a stack of t-shirts. “Hey, asshole,” he laughed, “these better go right back in your fuckin’ closet.”

Austin blushed and hid his face in Ian’s neck. “Just push ‘em off for now, need the room,” he laughed, pumping his eyebrows suggestively down at Ian.

“Oh?” Ian asked, grinning up at him and unceremoniously pushing the shirts off the bed.

As Ian did so, Austin leaned back to reach the nightstand, rummaging through the drawer until he found what he was looking for, dropping it next to them. “Yeah, haven’t seen you in way too long, drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he breathed.

“C’mere.” Ian pulled Austin down by his neck for a kiss, his other hand yanking at the hem of his shirt.

Austin pulled back just enough to tug his shirt over his head, throwing it behind him somewhere.

Ian groaned and ran his hands down Austin’s bare sides, leaning up to lick into his mouth. He assisted Austin in blindly kicking off his pants, making sure to tug his briefs down with them.

He wasn’t gonna lie, Austin had a near perfect ass. A bubble butt, as some may say. Austin moaned into his mouth as he reached back to grip him and Ian’s palm landed a smack against one of his cheeks. 

“Take your fuckin’ clothes off,” Austin whined, crawling off of Ian.

Ian happily obliged, tugging off his pants and pulling his shirt over his head. When he was done, he looked over at Austin and found him on his knees, one hand behind him, prepping himself on his fingers.

Ian’s mouth watered. He laid back down and guided Austin so that he was back straddling Ian’s hips. Austin’s head tilted back in a quiet groan as he worked his fingers and Ian’s head spun listening to the filthy squelch of the lube.

Eventually, Austin became fucking himself in earnest, putting on a real show for Ian. Ian’s hand shot out to find the lube and spread some over his cock, gripping a hand around Austin’s waist and jerking himself in time with Austin’s thrusts.

“Stop fuckin’ teasing and get on me,” he grumbled, grabbing the base of his cock and pressing the head to where Austin’s fingers were buried inside of himself.

Austin slipped his fingers out and braced his hands on Ian’s shoulders, slowly lowering himself onto Ian’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Ian grunted, unable to keep his hips from jerking upwards into Austin’s heat. He waited until Austin was fully seated and gave Ian the go ahead before thrusting up into him, holding his hips tightly place.

“Ian,” Austin moaned, throwing his head back as Ian fucked him relentlessly from underneath.

Ian finally gathered up enough self-control to slow down and loosen his grip on Austin. “Fuckin’ ride me,” he commanded, voice rough.

And Austin did, planting his palms on Ian’s chest and slowly lifting himself up before dropping down hard, knocking the wind out of Ian and forcing his eyes to squeeze shut in an effort to ward off any premature endings.

He started to bounce on Ian, his ass slapping against Ian’s thighs on every thrust. “So fuckin’ good, Ian,” he moaned, voice trembling.

“Yeah, baby, fuck,” Ian groaned, hips thrusting to meet Austin’s, “come on,” he practically begged, hand reaching up to jerk Austin’s cock.

“Oh, shit, fuck, I’m gonna – “ Austin cut himself off with a moan, hole tightening around Ian’s cock like a vise, come shooting up Ian’s chest.

Ian wasn’t far behind, fucking up into Austin’s pliant body half a dozen times more before spilling into him. He pulled Austin down tightly against him, burying his face in his neck. He gripped at his hair, holding him in a bruising embrace.

“Alright, alright, c’mon,” Austin laughed breathlessly into Ian’s chest, finally being let up so he could slip off of Ian’s cock. He got up and left the room and Ian faintly heard the sound of water running.

He let out a long sigh into the empty room. He made a mistake. He could’ve really fucked up something good.

Austin came back in with a rag and wiped the both of them down. He threw the dirty towel into the vague direction of the hamper and laid back on the bed.

Ian flopped down next to him, reaching an arm around him and pulling him close. He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of Austin’s head.

“I love you,” he whispered into the sandy colored hair.

“I love you, too,” Austin answered, snuggling up into Ian’s side.

As Ian laid there, listening to Austin’s breathing even out until they became the soft snores that he didn’t realize he missed so dearly in the last few days, he knew what he had to do.

He had to end it with Mickey.

* * *

Ian found himself back at the store in the morning, clicking through emails and making schedules and viewing his upcoming appointments.

At this point, he could be doing this with his eyes closed. He’d been doing it for so long that it was all just second nature; In fact, it came so easily to him that he had to do a triple-take when he glanced over the appointment for Leo Alvarez.

Holy shit. Did he know? Was he even aware who Ian was to Mickey? Was he coming in in a drunken rage to try and jump him?

Ian checked the time. _Jesus Christ_ , it was only 9:30. He had another five hours of anxiety to live through before that wild card would be played.

He tried to relax and accept the fact that he’d just have to live through the next few hours – there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

Ian went through the next few hours jumpy as hell. A customer came up behind him at one point and he nearly yelped. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he knew in his gut that it wouldn’t be good.

After his third appointment, Ian was finally able to sit down and take his break. He knew he had a few texts from Austin; they’d had a _really_ good morning and it really felt like the entire situation was behind them.

_(1:37pm) Austin: Talked to Mickey today_

_(1:37pm) Austin: He said he was sorry about what happened that night_

_(1:38pm) Austin: Did you tell him we fought ?_

Well, what the fuck.

And he didn’t. Ian made a point not to talk about Austin with Mickey because it made him feel like shit. They just avoided it like he didn’t even exist.

_(1:57pm) Ian: No? thats really weird_

_(1:57pm) Ian: I havent talked to him since_

_(1:57pm) Ian: Guess thats nice of him tho_

And, sure. Maybe Mickey did have an obligation to apologize considering Austin was his employee and he sort of ran off with his boyfriend with no explanation. It was shitty fucking timing, though, as Ian was hoping to avoid all talk of Mickey with Austin from this point on.

_(2:04pm) Austin: It was weird hearing him apologize lol. Used to him yelling at me all day_

Ian frowned, the image of Mickey yelling at Austin making his mood sour even further. He always knew Austin’s boss was a dick, but he never really had the picture of him. He always imagined some sweaty old fat guy barking orders. Knowing it was Mickey, though, who had once screamed at Austin for some mistake he made on an older car, made Ian feel violent.

_(2:07pm) Ian: Thats so fucked up. He needs to calm down_

_(2:09pm) Ian: oh also his ex is coming in today. Idk for what but I feel like its gonna be weird_

_(2:13pm) Austin: Oh shit good luck with that_

_(2:15pm) Ian: Thnks lol. Hows ur day going? :)_

_(2:22pm) Austin: Its good :) hbu?_

_(2:23pm) Austin: Other than ur exs ex coming in Lol_

_(2:25pm) Ian: Loll its good, pretty slow_

_(2:26pm) Ian: U gonna come over tn?_

_(2:29pm) Austin: Yea, ill just come by after work_

_(2:30pm) Ian: Sounds good, love you_

_(2:30pm) Austin: You too_

Ian smiled dopily down at his phone, clicking on Austin’s contact picture; it was some really embarrassing screenshot he took of him on FaceTime one night and it never failed to make Ian smile.

“Hey, Ian?” Jess ripped him out of his own little world, poking her head into the backroom. “Your 2:30 is here.”

Oh, shit.

Ian brushed his hands on his pants as he stood up, taking a deep breath.

Whatever shitstorm he was about to walk into, he could handle it.

He stepped out onto the sales floor and spotted Mr. Alvarez scanning over the watches.

“Mr. Alvarez?” Ian called, to which his client perked up, turning around to face him.

“Ah, Ian,” he sighed, walking up and reaching out his hand. “How have you been?”

Ian took the gesture cautiously, shoulders tense. “I’ve been well, sir, how have you been?”

Mr. Alvarez hummed, tapping his fingers against the glass case. “Not great, Ian. As you can see, I am now down a wedding ring,” he sighed, flashing his left hand.

Okay. So far so good.

“Oh, that’s awful to hear. Are you alright?” Ian asked, feigning concern.

Mr. Alvarez shrugged, taking another glance at the watches. “I’m doing okay. I think it’s really a temporary thing, though, you know how you young men are, always so flighty,” he mused, and Ian had to shove his hands into his pocket to not throttle him.

_Yeah, it’s weird how guys my age get flighty when their husbands are having affairs._

“Of course, sir,” Ian says instead, shifting his weight between his feet. “What brings you in today?”

“Well,” Mr. Alvarez started, as if deep in thought. “I’m trying to get him to come back, in a way. I’ve been trying to reach out, talk to him, but that doesn’t seem to do the trick. I’m thinking of maybe getting him a nice watch or chain.”

_Like a bribe_ , Ian’s mind supplied.

He knew it wouldn’t work. Ian’s surprised that Mr. Alvarez even got this far with Mickey and still thought bribing him with _jewelry_ of all things would win him back.

And fuck him for going around telling people that Mickey was just being fickle. Mr. Alvarez had a month-long affair with his receptionist and now he has the gall to accuse Mickey of being the deserter.

But, fuck it. If he could make a sale, he was sure as hell gonna make a sale.

He’d just find a way to decline the return when it inevitably came back around.

“Absolutely, Mr. Alvarez! What are we thinking, a Movado?” he offered, hovering around some of the most expensive watches they had in the store.

“Possibly,” his client nodded, scanning through the cases. “What about this one?”

He was pointing to one of the higher-end watches and Ian’s eyebrow quirked up. It was sleek, that was for sure. All matte black, minimalistic face, sharp lines. 

Ian couldn’t necessarily see Mickey rocking it, but out of everything Mr. Alvarez could’ve picked, it was probably the closest one.

That thought pissed Ian off. Clearly, they were together for years, the guy has to know enough about Mickey to know what he likes. But that nasty possessive streak in Ian flared up, wanting to be the only person that knew Mickey that well.

“Sure thing,” Ian said, forcing himself to act cheery.

He pulled the watch out from the case and handed it over, letting his client inspect it.

“Hm. Keep this one out,” he nodded, giving it back.

They took a lap around the store with Mr. Alvarez wanting to see something from every other case. Ian had to swallow a scoff when he picked out the gaudiest gold chain and said it was something that Mickey had always wanted.

Between the watch and the chain, Mr. Alvarez spent almost $4,000. All on Mickey. To bribe him into forgiving him. Jesus.

“Thank you so much, Ian,” Mr. Alvarez smiled, and Ian hated how genuine it was. “Here’s hoping we can make some progress here.”

And after another handshake, he was gone.

Ian thought he was going to die if he didn’t have a cigarette in the next twenty minutes.

* * *

It was the smell on his fingers that would later betray his slip up to Austin.

They were eating at Ian’s kitchen counter when Ian reached out to wipe some ketchup from Austin’s lip.

Austin frowned, reaching up to grab Ian’s hand and pulling it back to his face.

“Fuck you doing?” Ian laughed.

“Have you been smoking?” Austin asked, eyes wide.

Ian's smile faded and he looked down at the table, caught. He sucked on the inside of his cheek, knowing Austin would be disappointed in him.

“Hey, what happened? Is everything okay?” he asked, reaching out to press his fingers until Ian’s chin, tilting his head his way.

“Yeah, I just,” Ian said, voice hoarse, “just had a stressful day, I guess. Had Mickey’s ex,” he reminded Austin.

“How’d that go?”

“Nothing happened. I don’t think he knows, y’know, anything about me and Mickey,” he explained, thumb tapping against the counter. “But he came in to buy shit for Mickey. Told me he was just being ‘flighty’ and that he was trying to essentially buy him back into his life. It was fucked up,” he sighed.

It was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you think I should say something?”

Austin frowned, “To who, Mickey?”

Ian shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Like, warn him ‘bout what his ex is doing.”

Austin thought hard for a minute, looking down at his own fingers. “Mickey’s a big boy, Ian,” he breathed, “I don’t know if you should be getting involved.”

Ian nodded. Austin was probably right. It was probably better for Ian to just put some space between him and Mickey.

“But…” he continued, as if he was thinking out loud. “His ex really seems like an asshole, and even is Mickey’s _also_ an asshole, maybe it’d be good for him to have a heads up.”

Ian blinked at Austin, practically wringing his hands together. “So, what should I do?”

Austin opened and shut his mouth a few times, trying to piece together his thoughts. “Ian, you know what. Just – do whatever you want. Really, I trust you,” he said, reaching out to cover Ian’s hands with his own.

Ian smiled up at him, opening up his hand to squeeze Austin’s. “Thank you,” he whispered, bringing Austin’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. “You tryin’ to finish 60 Days In tonight?”

* * *

Ian and Mickey made plans to get coffee for the next morning. In public. Down the street from the auto shop, where Austin was. Ian was totally safe. There’s no way in hell that any bad decisions could possibly be made.

He was going to sit down across from Mickey, tell him what his ex was up to, tell him they couldn’t see each other anymore, and then they’d be done. That’s it. Nothing more.

Ian had talked himself up in the mirror this morning. He’d rehearsed his lines. This plan should've been foolproof.

But it wasn't, and Ian Gallagher was a god damn fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extending the chapters indefinitely, im not sure how many more there will be!!
> 
> there will be gallavich in the next chapter :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian talks to Mickey and things go... well, exactly how things go with Ian and Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a tiny reference to trevor and caleb but the story doesnt really follow canon!!

Ian got to the coffee shop a few minutes early, two cups of coffees sitting on top of the table in front of him. He needed an extra moment on his own to decompress and go through the plan in his head once again.

Okay, so he’d start out with the Leo thing, get that out of the way first. He’d tell Mickey that whatever Leo was going to inevitably tell him was a lie, that he was just trying to make up for his sorry ass mistake. He didn’t think Mickey was going to fall for it, but he’d prefer he knew ahead of time instead of getting angry in the moment and landing himself in a jail cell overnight.

Then he’d pull the plug on the… whatever was happening between them. All Ian had to do was picture Austin’s face, looking up at him with those dopey brown eyes and sweet smile, and Ian was confident that he could go through with it. He’d tell Mickey straight up, no funny business, no beating around the bush, they needed to stop seeing each other.

It was wrong, it was dangerous, and it was stupid. Ian just wanted to put this all behind them and never see Mickey again.

And then Mickey walked through the door and Ian groaned out loud.

He was wearing a tight black shirt underneath a jean jacket, some tight jeans with rips in the knees, his old Timbs, and – oh, what the hell?

Mickey had always been hot, but when the fuck did he get _hot?_

Mickey caught Ian’s eye from across the room and smirked, nodding at him and stalking towards him.

God dammit. Ian’s heart was racing, the back of his neck was sweating – when did it get so warm in here?

“Sup,” Mickey greeted, sliding down into the seat next to him.

Ian cleared his throat, mouth suddenly dry. “Hey.”

Mickey’s smirk just grew, leaning his forearms on the table. “To what do I owe the honor, man?” he asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

Ian let out a long breath, leaning back in his chair to create some distance between the two. “There’s just, a, uh,” he stuttered, looking away from Mickey. “Just something I thought I needed to give you a heads up about.”

Mickey’s head cocked to the side, eyebrows twitching together. “Uh, okay.”

“Well, okay, your ex came by yesterday and he –“ Ian cut himself off, distracted by a glint of light coming off Mickey’s neck. “Are you… fucking kidding me?”

Now that he was looking, he could see the outline of the chain underneath Mickey’s shirt. He glanced down and saw the Movado peeking out from underneath his cuff.

Mickey sat back, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, man, saw him this morning. What about it?”

Ian gaped at him, absolutely at a loss for words. He felt anger rising in his chest, his face going just about as red as his hair.

Mickey took the bribe? When did Mickey become such a pushover? A couple grand worth of jewelry and suddenly he lets bygones be bygones?

He expected Mickey to throw the gifts in Mr. Alvarez’ face, not throw them on as accessories.

“Jesus, dude, it’s not that big of a deal,” Mickey shrugged, which only fueled Ian’s fury.

“It’s not –?“ Ian started, his voice coming out louder than expected. He stared down at his hands, trying to find a way to slow his racing heart.

Abruptly, he pushed away from the table, catching the attention from half of the café. He stalked off toward the bathroom to cool off before he made a true scene.

He braced his hands against the sink, hanging his head between his shoulder. This shouldn’t be affecting him this much. This shouldn’t be affecting him at _all_. What was he, jealous? Over a guy he shouldn’t have feelings for possibly going back to his ex? He couldn’t be. He _shouldn’t_ be.

The door banged open behind him and he looked up at Mickey though the mirror.

“What’s with the fucking theatrics, dude?” he asked, annoyed.

“Seriously?” Ian whipped around, getting in Mickey’s face. “Your piece of shit ex has an affair and you take him back because he throws some shiny fucking toys in your face?”

Mickey pushed Ian back by his chest, hand firm between his pecs. “Ay, fuckin’ watch yourself.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Ian laughed. “You’re gonna go back to a guy who fucked around on you just because he’s, what, loaded?” 

Mickey looked up at the ceiling, letting out an aggravated sigh. “It’s complicated, just not the end of the fuckin’ world.”

“Not the fuckin’-“ Ian spluttered, “so you _are_ gonna get back with him. So, what, you agreed to come out here to fuckin’ end it? For _him_?”

Mickey ran his hands down his face, fingers pressing into his eyes. “Jesus, Ian, he’s not the fucking antichrist. Why don’t you take a look in the fucking mirror, asshole? See if cheating’s really all that bad.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Mickey,” Ian spat, pushing at Mickey’s shoulders.

“Not the first time either, huh?” Mickey taunted. “Kind of a serial cheater, don’tcha think?”

It wasn’t very often that Ian threw the first punch, but when he did, he always got it back as good as he gave it.

Mickey threw him against the stall door, landing a few blows against Ian’s gut until Ian headbutted him, making him backpedal.

He threw another punch and connected with Mickey’s jaw, a hot flare of pain shooting up his hand. They spun around in a dance of fists and blood until Mickey had Ian pressed up against the wall, his elbow tucked underneath his chin.

“Whatcha gonna do? Huh, tough guy?” Mickey asked, face just inches from Ian’s.

Ian sized him up, looking between his bruised eye and bloody nose and chapped lips and hell, he couldn’t stop himself if he fucking tried.

He pushed Mickey back away from the wall, kissing him just as passionately as he was beating the shit out of him in the minute prior.

Mickey groaned against his lips, fingers fumbling for the stall door behind him backing inside, tugging Ian with him.

Ian let the door close behind him, turning around and shoving Mickey against it. “Fuck you, Mickey, take your fucking pants off.”

Mickey grinned, toeing off his shoes and tugging down his pants and boxers until he could kick them off completely.

Ian turned him around and spit on his own fingers, bringing them down to push one inside of Mickey.

“Jesus, fuck, give a guy a little warning,” Mickey grunted, wincing.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ian gritted out, stretching him the best he could, biting down on his shoulder.

Once Mickey started to relax around his fingers, he groaned out, pressing his forehead against the wall. “Come on, I’m good, fuck.”

Ian pulled his fingers out and flipped Mickey back around, pressing another fervent kiss against his lips. He opened his own pants and pulled his cock out, slicking himself up with his spit. When he grabbed Mickey by his thighs and hoisted him up against the wall, pain flared in his hand.

“Alright, Army,” Mickey chuckled quietly, voice choking off with a moan when Ian pressed his cock against his hole.

Ian gasped as Mickey pulled him in inch by inch, pressing his face into his neck to try and muffle his quiet whines.

Mickey’s ankles were crossed at the small of Ian’s back, arching off the stall wall when Ian bottomed out. “Shit, fuck, Ian,” he hissed.

Ian started pumping into him, fingers in a bruising grip on Mickey’s hips. “Yeah, fuckin’ take it, Mick,” he whispered, thighs slapping against Mickey’s ass.

Mickey was practically bouncing on Ian’s cock with the force of his thrusts, breathy moans punching out of him on every pass. “Yes, Ian, right there,” he encouraged.

And then the bathroom door opened.

Both of them froze, Ian pressing Mickey hard against the metal stall.

They heard the guy using the urinal, taking his sweet ass time before flushing and walking over to the sinks.

Mickey shifted on Ian’s cock and let out a gasp of breath when the angle switched.

Ian’s hand shot out to cover his mouth, closing his eyes and trying to still his own breathing.

“Hey Siri,” they heard over the sound of the water. “Text Ian.”

Fuck.

Ian reached down as slowly as he possibly could to his pocket to fish out his phone. If his phone went off, they were fucking done. His hand was throbbing as he pressed his fingers into his tight jeans.

He just prayed that Austin didn’t look down.

“Hey, thought you were gonna text me when you were done, it’s been a while, so I came over but you’re not here. Text me when you can.”

Ian had just flicked off the ringer when Austin said, “Yes, send.”

It was another few seconds before the footsteps retreated and the door opened and closed again.

Ian let out a sigh of relief, leaning his forehead against Mickey’s. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Mickey breathed, quiet settling around them for a moment. “So, we gonna finish this?”

Ian groaned and pulled Mickey off his dick without a word, turning away to put himself back into his pants. He pulled out his phone and watched as Austin’s text lit up his screen.

“Got fuckin’ blue balls, man,” Mickey grunted, shoving his legs back through his pants.

“You gonna get back with Leo?” Ian asked suddenly, staring at the ceiling.

Mickey shrugged, buckling his belt. “Dunno. You gonna break up with Austin?”

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose, clenching his jaw. _No_ , he thought. He loved Austin. He wanted Austin. Austin could be his future.

But there was Mickey. Mickey, who he’d fallen in love with as a kid; Mickey, who Ian had been beaten to shit by and for; Mickey, who’d been there for him during his initial struggle with mental illness; Mickey, who Ian’s entire world revolved around. 

Ian chewed on the inside of his lip, finally meeting Mickey’s eye. “Do you want me to?” he asked genuinely, surprising himself by how soft his voice came out.

It was quiet between them for a long moment. They could hear faint chatter coming from the café, some machines beeping and some blenders blending. Ian could tell Mickey was trying to a form a mature thought, watching his expression shift over and over.

“Do whatever the fuck you wanna do,” Mickey answered, just as quietly.

Ian nodded, looking back at his shoes. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to keep Austin. He wanted to keep sneaking around with Mickey. He didn’t want to give any of it up because he was a selfish son of a bitch.

“I gotta get back,” Mickey said, breaking the silence. He opened the stall door and took a few steps out before turning around, as if he had just remembered something. “Oh, and Ian?”

Ian’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Deadass think your hand’s broken.” And then he was gone.

Ian frowned, blinking a few times. “What –“ he started, before looking down at his hand.

And, yep. Ian might not have been an EMT for a very long time, but he could tell _something_ was wrong, because his knuckles looked nasty. The back of his hand was black, blue, and red, and the more he looked at it, the more his brain was telling him that this fucking _hurt_.

He walked out to the sinks to at least rinse out the wound, but he got distracted by his own reflection in the mirror.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, tilting his face back and forth. There was already a faint red bruise blooming on one of his cheekbones, and clearly, his bottom lip had split if the blood smudged around his chin was anything to go by.

God damn it. It was going to be a trip explaining this shit to Austin.

* * *

Ian was on his way to the urgent care when he got a call.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, grasping for his phone in the passenger seat and answering without looking at the Caller ID. “Hello?”

“Ian, what the _fuck_?”

“Uhh, hey babe,” Ian winced.

“Don’t fucking ‘babe’ me!” Austin yelled over the speakerphone. “Mickey just got in looking like he’d been in a _barfight_.”

Ian tapped on the wheel, mind racing.

“Hello?” Austin prompted, sounding fed up as shit.

“It’s – we – look, it’s sort of complicated,” he started before Austin cut him off.

“Ian, I swear to god, if you tell me I just wouldn’t understand –“

“No! No,” Ian pleaded, turning into the parking lot. “Just wanna talk about it in person. Come over tonight? Please?”

All Ian could hear on the other end was Austin’s frustrated breathing. “Fine,” he finally answered, voice relaxing. “Are you okay?”

“Um, y’know,” Ian mumbled, trying to sound casual. “Mostly fine.”

“Mostly?”

Ian closed his eyes, preparing to be in deep shit. “Need to get some x-rays, but other than that, yeah, I feel great!” he said, cheerily.

“Christ, Ian, just,” Austin groaned, “let me know what happens. Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure,” Ian nodded, fumbling with his seatbelt and climbing out of his car.

* * *

Two hours and one finger cast later, Ian was pulling up to his apartment.

He figured he’d have a couple hours to himself – wash off his face, maybe ice and take some of the swelling down. What he wasn’t expecting was to see Austin waiting for him against the gate, arms crossed over his chest.

Ian gulped, taking an extra minute in his car to gather himself and prepare for whatever the fuck he was about to walk into.

His thoughts raced as he crossed the street, dread beginning to pool in his gut: _Did he talk to Mickey? What did he say? How the fuck was he going to keep his story straight?_

“Hey,” he tried to greet casually, meeting Austin’s deadpan stare. “Thought you got out at six tonight?”

As he walked closer, Austin’s expression turned from annoyed to worried, and he pushed off the gate to meet Ian halfway.

“Jesus, Ian, what’d he do to you?” he asked, hands coming up to cradle Ian’s face.

Ian tried not to wince, waving his hand as to brush it off.

“It’s really not that bad. I’ve had worse,” he tried to comfort, unlocking the gate and holding it open for Austin.

“Oh yeah? From who,” Austin asked, unamused.

Ian hummed, as if in thought. “Well, let’s see. My brother, my dad, Mickey’s dad, coupl’a Mickey’s dad’s friends, _Mickey_ ,” he listed off, sarcastically.

Austin followed Ian into the apartment and up the stairs, sighing exasperatedly. “That doesn’t change the fact that –“

“Babe,” Ian consoled, turning around when they reached his unit. “I’m fine. Trust me,” he pleaded, running his hands down Austin’s arms. “And to be fair,” he mused, turning around to unlock his door. “I sort of deserved it.”

“Why the hell would you have deserved this?” Austin followed him inside, bewildered.

Ian shrugged. “I started it.”

Austin let out a long breath, pressing his face against his hands. “Why would you – Ian – just, what?” he groaned, looking back up at him.

Ian threw his keys on the mantle, staring at them and trying to figure out what to do.

“Why were you done so early?” he asked, turning to look at Austin on the couch.

Austin just blinked up at him, probably annoyed that the subject was changing. “Don’t know. Mickey just said I could go when I was done on my last job,” he frowned.

“Huh,” Ian thought, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “Okay.”

Austin’s eyebrows shot up, hands reaching out at his sides. “Okay?!” he repeated, glaring at Ian. “Can you please just tell me what happened?”

“Yes! Yes, okay,” Ian sighed, sitting down next to him, his good hand resting on Austin’s knee. “So, I was gonna tell him about what his ex did, you know, coming in and buying him that bullshit, right? Then he comes in and he’s _wearing_ it –“

“I know,” Austin interrupted, stretching his arms out against the back of the couch.

“What? What do you mean you know?”

“When he came back in, I saw him in his office taking it off. It was like a watch and a necklace, right?” he asked, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Yeah,” Ian frowned. “Did he just, like, take it off for work, or…?”

Austin shrugged, “Dunno. Saw him put it in a drawer.”

“Oh,” Ian responded, trying to add that up in his head.

Maybe Mickey just took off the very nice, expensive jewelry because he works in an auto shop. Realistically, that makes the most sense.

But why would he wear it there in the first place? Did he wear it because he knew he was going to see Ian?

Did he just want to piss him off?

“Continue,” Austin prompted, eyebrows raised.

“Um. Okay, yeah,” Ian cleared his throat, trying to find his story again. “So, I sort of got on him for taking back his ex ‘cause he had an affair and it was shitty and whatever,” he explained, knee starting to bounce.

He immediately regretted deciding to tell him the truth. He never wanted to share this part of him with Austin. He already knew about most of the shit that went down when Ian’s bipolar really started up, but he never told him this because he didn’t want Austin to be worried about it.

And now he’d have a damn good reason to worry about it.

“Um, and then he got defensive, ‘cause, y’know, it’s Mickey, and he threw some stuff that happened in our past in my face about it and it sort of just set me off,” he finished, hoping that would be sufficient.

“What was it?”

Ian really couldn’t catch a break today.

“What was what?” he asked dumbly.

“Did they not check you for a concussion or something?” Austin asked, annoyed. “What’d he say?”

Ian looked down at the space between his feet, jaw clenching and unclenching. His blood had gone ice cold. “He brought up the fact,” he said slowly, sucking on his teeth, “that when I was manic and unmedicated, I cheated on him.” He stared at a piece of lint on the rug. “A couple times.”

It was quiet for a minute. A minute doesn’t seem like a very long time, but when you just told a very damning thing about yourself to the man you love and have to sit in silence for sixty whole seconds while he thinks, it feels like an eternity. 

“Oh,” Austin finally said, his voice quiet.

Another minute ticked by. Ian felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

“Was that the only time? Like, with Mickey?”

Ian leaned his face into his hands, clenching his eyes shut. “No,” he answered honestly, because he was keeping enough from him already. “I was seeing this guy, um, Trevor, a few years ago,” he continued, throat hoarse, “and I sort of fucked around on him.”

Another minute.

“Was it the same? Like, manic, unmedicated?” Austin whispered.

Ian took a minute to think, _really_ think. He’d been dating Trevor for a few months and they were getting relatively serious – Ian didn’t think they were soulmates or anything, but it was fun and Trevor seemed to really like him. He was the one who supported him in training to become an EMT; he had been so worried that the added stress and forgetting to eat and sleep was going to affect his mental health... but he was definitely stable when he met Caleb on the job.

“No,” he finally said into his hands.

Ian knew he was done. Even if he didn’t put two and two together with Mickey, cheating was something that Austin had always been disgusted by. And Ian had lied to him, many times. He had agreed that cheating was the worst thing anyone could do to another person. He told him he’d never cheat on anyone, that he didn’t have it in him.

But he was full of shit. And now, Austin knew it, too.

He felt Austin’s weight leave the couch, hearing the floorboards squeak underneath his shoes.

Ian tilted his head up enough so that his fingers were just covering his mouth, but he didn’t look at Austin.

“So, you fucked Mickey, right?”

Ian pressed his lips together hard, wincing when the pressure poked at his wound. He looked away, desperately trying to fight the tears that welled up in his eyes. He wanted to say no. He wanted to waltz over and pull Austin into his arms and tell him everything was fine. He wanted to apologize, to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness.

But all he did was stare out the window and give a short nod.

Austin left without a word. The sound of the door closing behind him rung in Ian’s ears long after he had gone.

Ian stayed frozen on the couch, fingers pressing hard against his mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to rip through his chest; he was still staring out the window as tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He tried to push everything out of his mind because he knew that he couldn’t handle thinking about it. Couldn’t handle thinking about what Austin thought of him now, or if he was ever going to see him again. Couldn’t handle thinking about Mickey, if he was actually considering taking his husband back. If he dwelled on any of that, he didn’t think he’d last the night.

So he sat on the couch.

He sat and he didn’t move until the sun had set behind the skyline.

Once he finally found the strength to crawl into bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes, he pulled out his phone.

A small part of him hoped for a text to illuminate the screen. Ian didn’t care whether it was from Austin or Mickey, he just wanted _something_. Something to signify that things could potentially be okay.

But there wasn’t, and Ian only felt the smallest twinge of disappointment.

He rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow, trying to block out the fact that his entire life just collapsed around him. He tossed and turned for hours, unable to shake the guilt that crawled up his spine and spread down his shoulders. It was infecting him, seeping into his pores; he was sure his coworkers would be able to smell it on him in the morning.

He reached back for his phone and winced as the bright light shined in his face. He sent out a single text and immediately felt lighter, like he had poked a hole in his head and let some of the pressure out.

He’d be able to figure something out. This was going to help. He could do this.

He finally fell asleep, clinging to the tiniest bit of hope that everything was going to be okay.


End file.
